


The Mark of a Blank

by iloveitblue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:26:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s the first words your father ever said to me.” His mother told him when she caught him staring at the words on her arm. He stared up at her in confusion and she chuckled. “One day, sweetie. One day, you’re going to get your own. It’s going to hurt, but it’s going to be worth it. I promise you.”</p><p>or the one where Phil has his words but Clint doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark of a Blank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kawaiironman](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kawaiironman).



> kawaiironman said: OMG YAY, Love you!! Something like a soulmate au where you get the words your soulmate first says to you. But because clint is deaf, he didnt actually hear the first words phil said to him, so he hasn't got phils first words on him. Insert UST .Eventually phil is like "you know asl, why not teach me" or he learns it in secret, and when he the first thing he says to clint in asl is clint soulmate marks.
> 
> Unbeta'd so probably filled with mistakes. Tell me if you find any! :D

“It’s the first words your father ever said to me. ” His mother told him when she caught him staring at the words on her arm. He stared up at her in confusion and she chuckled. “One day, sweetie. One day, you’re going to get your own. It’s going to hurt, but it’s going to be worth it. I promise you.”

Those had been his mother’s words to him. At that time, he didn’t understand them. He was 6, it didn’t matter. All that mattered to him then was that he got to the sidewalk in time to buy from the ice cream man. And then his father had died and the mark on her arm was the only thing to remind them of him, that his mother had found the man that made her the happiest.

Sometimes, he missed those days.

Those days, when he was 6, when his greatest concern was the ice cream and getting home in time to watch his favorite cartoons. It was a simpler time then. Now, his concerns involved getting to a bomb in time to deactivate it before it leveled the city of Dhaka. And that wasn’t even at the top of his priority list.

His mother had been right, though. His words did come in. It hurt like a bitch too.

November 19, 1978; 7:15 p.m. He remembered it exactly because the pain had been excruciating.

He felt himself start to sweat that cold almost-winter night, his body trying and failing to cope with the heat that started just below his breast. It had been bearable for a few seconds, then the heat intensified and Phil felt like he was being burned, from the inside out. He moved to quickly take his shirt off and saw no flames; just his bare chest. He ran to the mirror and saw it then, the words slowly engraving itself on his skin, burning him like a brand. And like a brand, the pain had only been for a few seconds, less than a minute, surely, before it subsided.

His breath was uneven when the words cooled, the black words contrasted with his pale skin. The pain had been intense, yes, but he didn’t care, after the stinging pain had faded, he was just happy to know that at some point in his life, he was going to meet the one person in his life that was going to make him happy. Like his father did for his mother.

At least until he focused on the words enough to read what it says.

_“You think you’re so cool with your gang of thugs?”_

Phil shook his head, failing to understand what the words meant. Literally, of course he understood what they meant, but it didn’t make sense. Why would his soulmate, of all people, say those words to him? Phil wasn’t a bully. Or at least he thought he wasn’t.  

That didn’t matter now though. He's way past his 30's and his mark was another thing on the back of his mind that he refused to acknowledge. He had a job to do, and doting on the mark – wondering and worrying why those were words the first thing his soulmate said – that would not get the job done. It wouldn’t save people’s lives.

So he pushed it to the back of his mind and pretended it doesn’t exist.

At least until the day the words are spoken.

\---

Clint had always been blank.

His brother used to tell him that it didn’t matter if he was or he wasn’t because having words meant diddly-squat in the real world. In the real world, nobody cared if you met your soul mate. In the real world, it only mattered that you do your job. But no amount of speeches could convince Clint otherwise because he knows his brother, and he knows that Barney has never been happier than when he met Charlie. Charlie was the one who spoke the words on his brother’s neck.

_I’m sorry, I didn’t see you because of all the oranges._

It wasn’t a first meeting worthy of its own movie but it had been enough to make Barney smile dopily all the way back to their tent. _‘It was just a meeting, it shouldn’t have affected my brother this much’_ , Clint thought to himself that night, he didn’t realize then that that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg.

His brother stopped trying to convince him that having words wasn’t a big deal. Clint understood, of course, Barney didn’t believe it anymore so why should he try to convince Clint otherwise? That would just make any argument he had baseless and he knew better than to try and trick Clint into anything.

“You’ll get yours soon.” Barney told him one night while Clint was hiding in his and Charlie’s apartment. “Everybody’s got someone. You just haven’t met yours.”

Clint snorted, playing with his meatballs. “It’s also possible that I’m never meeting them, that’s why I’m blank.”

“Clint.” Charlie reprimanded. “You can’t think like that. You _will_ meet the one for you, you just don’t see it yet. These things have an unusual way of happening. We can’t know for certain until it happens.”

Clint gave Charlie an appreciative smile. “Thanks.” Clint knew better than to try and convince Charlie otherwise. He learned early on that that’ll just lead into another spiel of how God intended for there to be someone for everyone that’ll make them undeniably happy, and Clint’s really not in the mood for that.

“Just be patient, Clint.” Barney told him again.

Be patient.

Yeah, Right.

\---

Clint tried to get up, but his body was not cooperating, preferring the ragged, stony floor to anywhere that required him to move. He hissed when the pressure his hand was applying to his side let up. He felt the blood gush down his flesh. He tried to even out his breaths and focused on not passing out. Passing out now could mean certain death for him and, quite frankly, he wasn't not ready for that yet.

It was dark but he could still make out the shapes of the people gathering around him. The thugs with the guns made way for this one man who commanded Clint’s attention without saying a word - not to mention, while drenched in the rain. He looked cool and badass and Clint hated him a little for it. Clint hated the man a lot for shooting him.

Clint sneered at him, he scoffed as his head rolled on his shoulders feeling lighter than it usually was, not a good sign based on Clint’s experience – mostly because it meant that he was ten seconds from passing out. Clint said a few words that he can’t remember but he’s willing to bet it’d been provocative enough that the man’s face froze for a moment before Clint finally passed out.

\---

When Clint woke up he’s disoriented. He’s never liked feeling disoriented, anybody who does probably has a problem. The ceiling and the walls, they looked wrong and they don’t look like any kind of wall or ceiling Clint’s ever seen before - mostly because it was a clean white and drastically lacked any popcorns or leak marks. As soon as it registered in his head that he was in an unfamiliar setting (which was embarrassingly long for him) he immediately tried to get up. Disoriented or not, unfamiliar settings were never good news.

He didn’t get far. He didn’t even get to properly sit up when a hand pushed him back down. Clint made a sound that he hoped was not a whine. The man to his side looked alarmed, to say the least, when Clint tried to break free from his iron grip. The man didn’t seem like he was posing any threat to Clint so he eased up, stopped struggling long enough for the man to reach into his pocket and pull out an ID.

_Phillip J. Coulson_

The ID claimed that the man – Coulson – worked for SHIELD, the organization that’s been tailing him for the past 3 years or so. Coulson talked and talked but Clint hears none of it - Literally, none of it. He must have lost his hearing aid when he was brought in to wherever the hell this was.

“I can’t hear you.” Clint said in what he hoped was not too loud or too soft a voice. He’s gotten pretty good at modulating his voice without hearing himself but with the good drugs they have him under, it was tough to tell.

Coulson’s frown deepened a little and he took out a little pad and wrote a question mark on it before he showed it to Clint. “I’m deaf. I can’t hear you. I could read your lips, but frankly, I’m too tired to do that.”

Coulson gave him a stern nod and dialed on his phone. Not more than 10 minutes later, a lady in a crisp suit walked in and stood beside Coulson. They talk for a few moments before Coulson started speaking to Clint again, the woman standing beside him and signing.

‘Hello Clint, My name is Phil Coulson. I am an agent of SHIELD. You are in one of SHIELD’s medical facilities. I apologize for that. I’m afraid my aim needs a bit of work since I was aiming for your leg, not your stomach.’ Clint snorted at that and Phil quietly smiled at the sound. ‘I think you know why we brought you in…?’

“To harvest my brain and pickle my insides.” Clint answered him.

Phil smirked. ‘No. We still have a full stock in the back. We won’t be harvesting anything just yet.’ Clint was strangely having fun talking to this guy. Either that or the drugs made him loopier than he first thought. ‘We brought you in because we wanted to make you an offer.’

Clint remained silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

‘We want you to join SHIELD.’

There it was.

“What makes you think I even want to join SHIELD?” Clint asked him. Coulson answered him with a smug air about him.

‘What makes you think you have a choice?’

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone you want to join your organization.”

Coulson shrugged. ‘I’m new.’ Clint could tell that that part was a lie. ‘And frankly I’m just really tired. Ulterior motives aside, I just want to go home and sleep for a day.’

Clint smiled against his better judgement and sympathized. “I know. Me too.” He said to Coulson tiredly.

Coulson smiled at him. ‘Then I need you to sign this.’

Clint rolled his eyes as far as he could while drugged, which was to say not very far. “Nice try. But you gotta buy me dinner before you get to bring me home. I’m not that easy, Coulson.”

Coulson looked like he was trying hard not to smile. ‘Oh trust me, I never thought for once you were easy.’

\--- 

The next few months, after he was released from the med bay, all he did was train. Not that he had any other choice since after he signed on with SHIELD, he was pretty much blacklisted from the underground community as a possible snitch. But that was okay, life in SHIELD wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He got to shoot his bow as much as he wanted and called it training, he got a bed and a roof over his head, and he also got a spectacular view.

And by view, he of course meant Agent Coulson stopping by once in a while. They haven’t really talked after he was released from med bay – which is to say they _did not_ talk - not even once - after he was released from med bay. To be honest, it was kind of annoying.

There were a few times where he was supposed to drop off his reports to Coulson, giving him an excuse to actually hear the man’s voice now that R&D graciously replaced his hearing aid, but they always somehow missed each other. And Clint didn’t want to seem like the stalker type so he just let things happen naturally; and by that he meant finding out what time Coulson uses the range so he could use it at the same time. 

See? Totally not stalker-ish.

So far though, all that’s gotten Clint is 60 minutes of uninterrupted Coulson time. Granted, they don’t actually talk aside from the very casual head nods when they noticed each other there, but hey, Clint’s not complaining. Coulson time is Coulson time.

Although sometimes Clint thinks that Coulson thinks he’s not wearing his hearing aids. Mostly because Coulson always just nodded at him in a form of greeting or goodbye but he still said ‘Good Afternoon’ to every other agent in the world. Also, Coulson never requested him for missions even though he was the one who saw first-hand what Clint could do – Yeah, being in the pool sucks. So either Coulson thought he wasn't wearing hearing aids, or they have a problem. Which Clint hopes they didn’t because he really likes Coulson and he hasn’t been inside SHIELD long enough to cause mayhem yet.

\--- 

“Did you hear?” A junior agent said in a voice too loud to be considered gossip-y. “Agent Barton brought in the Black Widow.”

Coulson’s step faltered.

Black Widow was supposed to be his mission but Doctor’s orders after his last mission had made him unable to do it. Fury was the one who took over. He didn’t even realize that Fury took Barton with him. He’s going to have words with that man later but for now, he was going to the med bay to check if Barton was okay. That’s the least he could do after getting Barton involved.

“He’s not in.” The nurse at the reception said.

“What?”

“Agent Barton. He’s not a patient. He was cleared right after they came back.”

“Oh.”

“The Black Widow is in though. I think Agent Barton is with her right now. Along with the Director.”

“Can I go see them?”

“Sorry, ‘fraid not. We were given strict orders not to let anyone through unless it was a matter of life or death.”

Phil was a little tempted to ask why she felt the need to tell him where Barton was if he wasn’t allowed to see Clint anyway but he wisely kept it to himself. After all, you don’t want the people handling your loopy drugs angry.

He knew that the Black Widow was a wanted assassin and that the mission he was supposed to lead entailed having to kill her. So having her here instead of dead, especially if Hawkeye was involved, was weird, to say the least. Phil wondered if he would be allowed to read the debrief reports later.

He thanked the nurse and went back to his office instead. There was no use hanging around the med bay if he wasn’t allowed in after all. Besides, Phil doubted that Barton still recognized him. It was over a month ago since he woke up in one of the med bay rooms. That was the last time they spoke too – via proxy, but hey. They met a few times in the range too, and if Phil visited the range more often, well, that’s a good thing. He needed work with his aim after all.

A month, huh.

A month was a long time. One long month of developing a crush on one of his subordinates who, Phil is quite certain, can’t even remember who Phil is. Can he get any lower than this?

Oh, wait. Yes he can.

A month ago was also the first time he met and spoke to Clint Barton. A month ago, Clint asked him if Phil thought he was so cool with his army of thugs. That wasn’t really how he pictured meeting his soulmate – bloody, and in the rain. Most people when faced with their soulmate would jump at the chance to get to know them, to figure out how that person fit into their life. Phil Coulson was apparently not like most people.

Phil sighed when he closed his office door behind him, throwing his head back so that it hit the door.

 _This_ was probably the lowest he could go.

\---

They started an unusual friendship.

Barton became a sort of mentor for Natasha. And Natasha became a distraction for Clint. They were seamless in the field. Working hand in hand to get the job done as efficiently as possible, a two-person team. Quickly becoming SHIELD’s best. Already are if the rumors were to be believed

They slept together, when push comes to shove and the stress was almost unbearable but they both know it meant nothing.

Besides, Natasha knew about Coulson.

“So,” Natasha opened, when she knocked out two of the four guards in that corridor.

“So?” Clint fired his arrows, taking out the other two. They go inside the office that the four guards were trying to protect and Natasha headed straight for the vault behind the painting in the far corner of the room, like the briefing packet said.

“You and Coulson.” Natasha crouched down, opening the vault while Clint stood guard.

A guard rounded the corner and before he could actually do anything, Clint fired off an arrow. Clint scoffed. “There’s nothing going on with me and Coulson.”

"I never said there was." She pocketed the hard drive inside the vault and leafed through a few documents inside. “But see, there lies my problem.”

“I’m sorry, _your_ problem?”

Natasha shrugged, taking the folder with her as well as the hard drive. “A girl can only take so much before she gets fed up.” She booted up the computer and started looking for relevant files.

“I have never pined for Coulson out loud.” Clint rifled through the filing cabinet and slammed it back close when there was nothing of interest.

“Actions speak louder than words, dear boy.” She tutted him. Someone grabbed Clint by the shoulder but the archer just flipped him over unto the table and Natasha tased him. “You give away more than I want to know even without talking and frankly, I’ve never seen someone so smitten than you are. Oh wait, I did. With that kid and the candy store.”

“Oh, hah. Hah. Very funny.” Clint rolled his eyes at her. “Are you done yet?”

Natasha typed in a few more things and took out the flash drive. “Done. Let’s go.”

They went out the office only to be met with a hundred bullets, barely escaped the rain of bullets with Natasha pushing Clint back into the office and diving for cover behind the desk. “How many?” Clint asked her.

“6. But there’s more incoming from the elevator. What now?”

Clint looked around, and found two possible ways out. “Vent or window?”

A few minutes later, the people trying to kill them had realized that they escaped through the window and the ringleader, obviously pissed, started shouting to ‘find them’ and ‘we can’t let them get away’. Classic.

“Seriously, though.” Natasha said, starting up the bike they hid in the bushes. “I don’t think I can handle another day of you longingly watching him. It’s pathetic.” Clint hopped on behind her as she revved the bike.

“ _You’re_ pathetic.” Clint bit back as they rode through the trees. He could hear Natasha scoff even with the motor running. “And I don’t watch him longingly.”

“Have you seen yourself in the mess? And in the hall when he passes by; not to mention in the range? It’s definitely longingly watching. Heads up, we got 4 incoming.” Natasha told him.

“Got it.” Clint said, aiming and firing 4 arrows simultaneously at the guards standing next to the hole in the fence that Clint and Natasha made earlier.

She drove on until they were on the road somewhere in Indiana. They were supposed to go to the safe house and wait for further instructions. And since the safe house was still a good 45 minutes away, Natasha found this to be the perfect time to continue talking about Clint's nonexistent love life with Coulson.

“All I’m saying is that you need to ask him out.” Natasha said over her shoulder.

“Why? We’ve got a perfectly good system going on.” Natasha could feel Clint rolling his eyes.

“What system? You just staring at him, not making a move, and sighing every once in a while then hopefully, but not likely, moving on when tie passes by?”

“That’s exactly it.” Clint sounded smug, and if Natasha wasn’t driving, she’d smack him upside the head.

“That’s a horrible system.”

“Says you. It works for me.”

Natasha’s voice grew less teasing and more sincere. “Look, I’m asking you to just try it. You’ll never know.” She told him.

She was wrong though, Clint _does_ know. He knew it’s not going to work with him and Coulson. That pursuing Coulson would just end in tears. All because he was not made for Coulson. Because Clint was destined to be alone for the rest of his miserable life. Because Phil Coulson was too good for him. Because he was blank.

She looked over her shoulder and elbowed his gut lightly. “You’re doing it again.”

Clint muttered an ‘ow’ before sighing. “Doing _what?_ ”

“That thing you do where you think about being blank. Stop it.”

Clint snorted, he told Natasha that in confidence – also while drunk, but mostly in confidence. “I’m not.”

“You are. I can smell the pity party from here.”

“Well, that makes sense since you are right in front of me.” He could feel Natasha rolling her eyes at him.

They remained silent, the only sound for miles was the roar of the engine as it eats up the seemingly endless road. When they arrive at the safe house, Natasha parked the bike right in front of the small cottage and threw the keys to Clint. He pocketed them and was just about to go in when Natasha caught his wrist.

“You know it doesn’t matter right? The mark, I mean. If you love someone, you love someone. No amount printed words can change that unless you want it to. You deserve to be happy, Clint. Don’t let the marks tell you otherwise.”

Clint nodded, knowing full well what she meant. Natasha meant well but she doesn’t understand. She already had her words. _‘Avoiding the stress isn’t the secret.’_ Weird words, but at least she had them. She’s lucky to have them because there was a certain amount of comfort that accompanied bearing words. The knowledge that there’s someone out there for you. That you’re going to meet them. There’s comfort in knowing that.

Clint didn’t have that. He either was not going to meet the one for him or, worse, there was no one out there in the world for him. It’s sad, but it’s the truth. He’s accepted the truth a long time ago.

He just wished it were different.

Clint wished he had a chance with Phil.

\--- 

He wasn’t jealous.

Being jealous would be illogical. He was simply… being fiercely (and unnecessarily) protective over Clint. That wasn’t being jealous. Okay, so maybe it’s the dictionary definition for jealous, but that didn’t mean it was baseless. He’s just… worried about how Natasha was influencing Clint. Probably not the best choice of words since Natasha was great. She wasn’t like what Phil expected. She’s nice, and she’s protective of Clint, and she isn’t intimidated by Phil outside of work – which was a plus.

But she’s also too close to Clint which meant that Phil had lesser chances of getting him alone – even if it was just to creepily watch him as he trains – Oh, please. Don’t look at Phil like that. Half of the agency goes to the range when Clint is training. It just so happens that Phil actually has his range time scheduled for the same hour. How he managed that, God knows.

“Heads up, boss. Barton says he’s going to break out of med bay tomorrow, drugs or no.” She also seemed to be the only one who's able to talk to Clint.

Phil looked up from his computer and took a moment to process it. “You know ASL?”

For the first time since Phil met her, Natasha looked a little confused. “Unrelated, but yeah. Why?”

“You think you can teach me?” Phil stood up and rounded his desk. “I’ve wanted to talk to Barton for a while now, but ASL is harder than I thought. So far I know how to spell things. But I can’t exactly spell everything to him.”

Natasha’s eyes lit up like Christmas came early and smiled sweetly. “So you’ve never actually talked to Barton before?”

“Other than his recruitment, no. And there was someone signing for me then.”

Natasha pursed her lips then pinched them in between her teeth like something Phil had said was so amusing. “I’ll do it but full disclosure, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing this for Clint.”

Asking the girl you’re jealous of to help you get closer to the man causing your jealousy; now that’s illogical.

And fine; he _is_ jealous. So sue him.

\--- 

After a little work, Coulson had learned a little bit of ASL. It wasn’t close to perfect and he still made mistakes sometimes, but he could always fall back to spelling things if he forgot how to sign things. And with Barton coming back from a fairly successful mission, he felt like now would be the perfect time to try and talk to him on his own.

Clint should still be in med bay if he hasn’t escaped yet; so Phil headed down there. He was led to an examination room where both Natasha and Clint sat opposite each other. Natasha signed something fast to Clint that Phil couldn’t read when she noticed Phil approaching.

“Hey Coulson. What are you doing here?” She asked him, giving Clint a kind of look.

“Nothing, I was just here to check up on the both of you. Seems like the mission was a success largely because of you two. I wanted to congratulate you both.” He said in a pleasant tone before turning to Clint.

He placed the tip of his fingers to his lips then moved them a few inches away, and then with his right index and middle finger bent, he tapped his left fist.

Clint looked confused for a second, narrowing his eyes at Natasha and then at Phil. “Good… Potato?” he asked.

Phil had meant to say Good Job. What the hell has a potato got to do with anything? Phil started signing again, but this time he stuck to just spelling it. It was slow and clumsy, but at least he knew how to spell it.

_‘I meant to say “Good Job”. Did I do it wrong?’_

Clint tried not to smile, but it’s kind of hard not to when he was faced with a disgruntled Coulson. “Well, a little bit. This,” He tapped his two fingers against his fist “usually means potato.”

Phil groaned and didn’t look at Clint straight in the eye. It was kind of hard to when faced with abject humiliation.

_‘I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed right now. Excuse me, I need to do work.’_

Clint stared after him until he was out of earshot before turning to Natasha. “Was that- was that the surprise you were talking about?”

“You’re welcome.” She said to him smugly.

He was still grinning like an idiot when he asked, “Who taught him how to sign? Last I checked he needed an interpreter.”

“I did, but obviously we still need to work on his vocabulary.”

“He learned ASL.” Clint said slowly, as if trying to believe the words himself. “For me.”

Natasha rolled her eyes fondly, “Yes, for you. He seems to be under the impression that you don’t have hearing aids. An impression I didn’t bother to correct just because I think it’s cute.”

“He learned ASL for me.” Clint just repeated.

Well, he can’t help it. Phil Coulson, object of his 3 month long fantasies, learned a new language just for him. Forgive him if he was having a serious case of the grins.

\--- 

Very warm.

Hot, even.

Clint tossed and turned but the warmth building up in his gut would not let up. He kicked off the sheets and tried again to no avail. He finally opened his eyes and reached for his phone. 3:12 am, it blinked at him. Based on the lack of brightness in his room, he was going to assume that the phone hadn’t been lying and it is in fact the middle of the night.

It’s already late in autumn which meant it should not be legal for it to be this warm. He doesn’t even sweat this much when he was training. He got up and started to walk around, but that only seemed to make the air around him warmer.

Clint grabbed his bath towel and headed for the showers. He needed to find a way to cool himself down fast because as seconds ticked by he just felt hotter and hotter. When he stepped into the shower, after depositing his stuff in one of the lockers, he quickly set the shower to its coldest temp and sighed in relief as the heat started to melt away.

It only worked for a few seconds though and the heat was back. A piercing pain from his right rib, like he was burning alive. Clint groaned and hissed as he held the part of his skin that felt like it was burning. It was slow and torturous, and nothing eased the pain until it did. Clint was reduced into a panting tired mess under the cold shower. The water was welcomed by his still tingling skin.

Clint was left to wonder what the hell that had been until he stepped out of the showers and noticed the difference in the mirror. There it was, in letters dark enough that it wasn’t hard to read in the foggy mirror.

_‘Good Potato.’_

\---

“Clint, you’re making this unnecessarily harder on yourself.” Natasha told him. They’re both in his bed in his quarters and Clint has his head on her lap while she leaned against the far wall, running her hands through his hair. “Just tell him and let whatever happens happen.”

Clint mumbled unintelligently into her lap.

“Use your words, Clinton.”

Clint raised his head and glared at her. “You know I hate it when you use that.”

She smiled at him, running a hand through his hair again. “I know.” Clint shifted so that he’s now facing her stomach. “What’s really the problem here? You got what you wanted. You have your mark, and it’s with Coulson. So what’s wrong?”

Clint threw his arm over his eyes, “Nothing. Everything is peachy. Perfect, even. Can’t wish for anything better.”

“Clint.” Sometimes Clint thinks it’s unfair how Natasha only needed to say his name and he spilled everything; today, he’s glad for it.

“It’s just- What if-“

“Okay. Stop right there.” Natasha actually put her hand over his mouth, “The marks? They’re practically an assurance that you’re going to be with him. What are you so scared of?”

“That he doesn’t like me the way I like him.” Clint told her as he sat up. “It’s just, I was fine the way I was. That I was blank. I’d accepted it, happily. I didn’t care, and I didn’t let that get in the way of me being happy for those around who had their soulmates. And then I met him. I’ve never hated myself for being blank as much as I did when I got to know him because I wanted to be his other half. Because let’s be honest, Coulson is… he’s this _guy_ , you know?

“He’s not like the others. He’s nice, without being a pushover. He’s cool and collected without appearing stuck up. He’s funny without being crass or joking at the expense of others. He’s humble without belittling himself. He makes me smile,” Clint scoffed, “And I know that that doesn’t make sense since we haven’t even had one proper conversation between the two of us, but there’s just something there that fits. Like he’s the one who’s meant to complete me.”

Natasha smiled, despite herself and she held Clint’s face in her hand, “It makes perfect sense. That’s what your soul mate is supposed to make you feel. They’re supposed to make you feel like you’re the only one worth looking at, like you’re better just by being next to them, like you’re alive.”

“But that’s the thing. How can I be all of _that_ for him when I’m just… _me._ I don’t even have a GED for fuck’s sake. I’m not the one for him. He deserves better than me.” Clint’s shoulders droop and he scowled at his hands.

Natasha gently pushed his head up so that he looked at her. “Clint, do you honestly believe that?”

“I don’t want to but it’s the truth.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you pride yourself of your sight when you fail to see what’s in front of you. You’re more than what you think of yourself, so much more, and I worry that you’ll live your life not seeing it. I hope Coulson will have more luck trying to convince you that you’re perfect because I’ve tried, and I’ve obviously failed.”

Clint scooched closer and bumped shoulders with her. “You didn’t fail, Tasha. You just… don’t have the right parts.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and bumped him back. “I didn’t hear you complaining that night in-“

“That was for survival!”

“What about Nepal?”

“I was bored.”

“Switzerland.”

“I was horny.”

“Whatever. You just want me for my body. Your mark comes in and you throw me out like I’m yesterday’s trash. I see how it is.” Natasha crossed her arms and turned away from him.

“Don’t be like that, baby. You know I still wuv you.” Clint took her face in both hands and squished her cheeks.

“Ew, gross. Stop.” Natasha pushed him away and they dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

Once the laughing died down, Clint rested their foreheads together and he smiled, small and private, just for the two of them. “Seriously, thank you.”

Natasha smiled back at him and kissed his forehead. “Anytime. Now, go. Go ask him out or something. I don’t think I can last another day of you pining.”

Clint mocks gasp, “I do not pine.”

“Have you seen yourself? Oh, honey. You pine harder than trees ever could.”

\---

It happened in the middle of a fire fight, because of course it would.

Well, it actually happened in the safe house, but it starts in the middle of a fire fight.

Sometime during the fight with a mob, Clint was dragged to the ground. It didn’t matter though, he could still fight while on the ground. The height just made for a great advantage. Still, three agents against more than a thirty armed men? That was a little unfair.

Coulson had appeared when shit hit the ceiling fan. He intended to get them out of there, be the extraction when the idiot leading the op had called a retreat, instead he’s stuck inside the compound with Barton and Romanov fighting for their lives.

“Well, this beats staying at home watching TV alone, I guess.” Coulson quipped, hiding behind a couple of crates as he changed his magazine.

“Hey, speak for yourself. I actually like watching TV. Its mind numbing.” Clint retorted, firing off three arrows at the same time.

“You do know that’s the exact line mothers warn their children about, right?” Natasha asked him, grinning despite the rain of bullets.

“Mind numbing is only a problem when you’re supposed to be studying. If you just want to relax and forget the world, Mind numbing is awesome.” Clint ran towards another set of crates leaving the two behind.

Coulson shrugged, “He does have a point.” He said before launching himself to the opposite side of the room so that they were spread out.

“I think I liked it better when you thought he couldn’t hear you.”

Phil had found out about that a few days after the thing that happened in med bay - He still cringed every time he thought about it. Barton went to his office to talk to him about something that day. Oddly enough, he looked a little nervous to be just telling Coulson that he got a new hearing aid the first week he worked for SHIELD and that Phil didn’t really have to learn ASL. Phil didn’t tell him that he wanted to learn ASL because he wanted to get closer to Clint but he did tell him that ASL was a handy language to learn.

Clint laughed at the accidental pun.

Good news is that Barton has offered to teach him ASL and Phil has been steadily learning how to sign properly.

They had taken out most of the armed men now, only a little over ten, but they were also running out of bullets which was obviously not something you would want during a fire fight.

“Shit.” Coulson cursed, hiding back behind the crates. He released the magazine and tried looking for a fresh magazine in his suit but there were none.

“You okay, Coulson?” Clint asked, his eyes never leaving the assailants, firing arrow after arrow.

“Fine. Just ran out of bullets.”

“No problem. There’s like two of them left.” Clint snickered. He and Natasha fired one last shot each, taking down the last of the men. “And, done.”

Phil got up to congratulate both agents when he saw the man in the shadows a few meters from the archer. “Clint, Watch out!” Without thinking too much, Phil threw the first thing he could, which was the empty gun, and hit the assailant on the head, but not before the man got the chance to shoot Clint.

Clint fell to his knees, clutching his side. Phil ran towards Clint, quickly taking off his suit jacket to press it to the wound. Natasha handcuffed the guy to a pole and shot his leg three times for good measure before she went to help get Clint up.

“Romanov, you think you can clear a path for us?” Phil asked, panic fueling him, the bullet had made a big enough damage that it’ll only take a few minutes until Clint passed out. “We need to get ahold of one of the cars, go back to the safe house. Clint needs to be stitched up.”

\---

When Clint woke up, he was immediately aware of the pain his body was in. He turned his head and found Coulson sitting there, next to the bed.

“What? You didn’t have the good drugs?” Clint asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It was an emergency. We didn’t have anything.” Coulson pushed him back down when he tried to sit up.

Clint sighed, giving up on trying to sit up while Coulson was around, “How long was I out?”

“Just a few hours. Natasha’s out to get dinner. She said to be good while she’s gone.”

Clint scoffed. “I’m always good. Ask my many insubordination cases.”

Coulson ignored the joke and continued talking, looking at everywhere but Clint. “She also said that we needed to talk.”

Clint pretended he didn’t know what Natasha meant by that. He was strangely good at acting stupid. “Sure. What do you wanna talk about? The weather? Fury’s eye? The newest Kardashian?”

“Clint, your mark- Is, Is it supposed to mean me?” Phil still chose not to look Clint in the eye, focusing instead on the half bandaged words on Clint’s side.

Clint didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Well, people don’t often say Good Potato to me, so...”

“But those weren’t my first words to you.”

“Yeah, but it was the first you actually told me. On your own. That I heard, or well, in this case read.” Clint wanted to twiddle his thumbs together just so he could do something with his hands, but that seemed a little juvenile even for him.

Phil remained quiet for a long time, the only sound in the dingy cottage was the clock, tick ticking away.

“Look, I get it. I’m not what you expected. I’m not what you wanted in a soulmate. I’m not good enough. I just-”

Phil holding his hand tight was not what Clint expected, but it did shut him up. He turned to Phil to see that the man was shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. I’m just wrapping my head around this.” He took a deep breath and finally looked at Clint. “It’s funny how you think that you’re not good enough for me, when all I’ve been thinking since I met you was that you’re too good for me. That there was no way I could convince you to look my way and give me a chance to love you, like you deserve. Clint, I don’t know much about what you’ve been through in your life to think so lowly of yourself, but I can assure you that’s not the case. You are easily the bravest, smartest, most wonderful person I have ever met. And it hurts me that you can’t see that. How perfect you are.”

“You… love me?” Clint whispered, a little dizzy, from the pain or from the butterflies in his stomach, he wasn’t sure.

Phil huffed out a laugh. “That’s the only thing you took out of that?”

“Well, it seemed very important.”

Phil smiled, squeezing his hand once. “I do. Love you, I mean. So much in fact that it’s a little ridiculous.”

Clint grinned back, knowing full well how that felt. “Why didn’t you tell me before? That, that I said your words.”

“Well,” Phil cleared his throat. “In this line of work, you weren’t exactly the first one who said it. At that time, I thought she was my soulmate. And then I found out that I wasn’t hers. That she’d just met the guy who spoke her words. So I let her go. Then you came into the picture, and I didn’t know what to do because it was happening all over again. So I waited. I didn’t let myself get involved in case I fell for you. Obviously, it didn’t work. And now here we are.”

“Your mark, what does it say?”

Phil debated telling him before he gave in and sighed, “You think you’re so cool with your gang of thugs?”

Clint raised both eyebrows at him in disbelief then started giggling, stopping only when it hurt too much to laugh. “To be fair, I did think you were cool. With or without the gang of thugs.”

Phil laughed, and Clint couldn’t help looking forward to the rest of his life, creating chances to listen to Phil laugh and see him smile.

**Author's Note:**

> A few edits here and there to correct some things. No major changes. Still found some mistakes? Tell me. And I'll fix it! :D
> 
> Did you like it? Comments are gifts to the writers.


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